


Authentic letters from our readers

by YungWenLean



Category: Ginga Eiyuu Densetsu | Legend of the Galactic Heroes
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26661271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YungWenLean/pseuds/YungWenLean
Summary: Even if your fantasies are quite decent and wholesome, compared to some of the stuff you've read in Fezzan Gentleman's Guide at least, it's still hard to look Evangelin in the eye later that day. Young Wolfgang Mittermeyer is back at his childhood home for a weekend and everything is as it's always been. Almost.
Relationships: Evangelin Mittermeyer/Wolfgang Mittermeyer, Wolfgang Mittermeyer/his hand
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Authentic letters from our readers

Wolfgang woke up from a very nice dream, the kind you don’t want to wake up from. The birds outside were chirping. He looked at the clock. 5:37. Damn. He hoped he would sleep in since he was home for Keiser Rudolph’s Birthday weekend, but he was used to waking up at six sharp every morning. Oh well, there were other advantages to being on leave. Like not sharing a room with five young men who, just like you, were pretending they weren’t wanking.

He had already done it once since he got home. He arrived late and Evangelin had already changed into a night gown. She started running towards him down the stairs (he could see her breasts moving under the flannel with every step), but got self-conscious half way, stopped, waved at him and said she’d see him tomorrow. Just that was enough for last night. We had wiped up the mess with one of his dirty socks, putting it back in his bag so that his mother wouldn’t try to do his laundry.

Wolfgang was a virgin, but he had a pretty good idea of what sex was. There were magazines for that. Usually produced in Fezzan and then distributed and redistributed among the cadets. There were perfectly clear photos of people getting it on, and although it was the quickest way to get done with your business, Wolfgang didn’t really like looking at those. The stiff poses of the actors made him a bit uncomfortable and he just didn’t really need to see intimate details of other people’s intercourse to get turned on. As far as photos went, he actually preferred those of ladies dressed, or semi-dressed, in something that was sensual but still looked comfortable. A nightgown, maybe -- a small, silky one, but still an actual nightgown. 

Wolfgang liked the idea of his future wife wearing something like that for him. He knew he’d be away from home a lot in his line of work, but he wasn’t bothered by the prospect of not having sex for months. After all, Wolfgang had lived almost two decades without it, everything shorter than that would be an upgrade. The anticipating actually felt nice, he liked thinking about the longing he would feel on his way home, and how his future wife would pick something nice to wear when she was longing for him in their modest house. When he saw a lingerie catalog, he’d imagine his future wife choosing something that he’d like from one of those. She’d know what he’d like. That was a good thought.

More than pictures, Wolfgang liked the stories. You could always read them a couple of times and memorise enough to not need the magazine anymore. He didn’t like the conquest stories so much. Some friends of his liked the chase more than the sex itself, it seemed, but it didn’t really appeal to him. Maybe it was a sour grapes situation, Wolfgang was not as naturally attractive to women as some of his friends seemed to be. He didn’t have the instinct that everyone owed him something, like the noblemen had. But that aside, he still preferred the stories about boyfriends and girlfriends, couples where the sex was hot because they knew each-other well, not because they were complete strangers.

He was not sure about what to make of the acts described in the magazines. Some seemed intrinsically intimate, some didn’t feel like anything you’d want to do to the mother of your children. On the other hand, even the little he had done with women so far in his life could feel empty and a bit gross afterwards. On some level Wolfgang could understand that feeling somebody’s breast through a camisole and bra was probably not that wild of an act, what made it feel ungentlemanlike was that the girl didn’t mean anything to him. He trusted that he and his future wife would figure out what was gross and what was normal when there was actual love involved.

He was treating himself to an elaborate future wife fantasy, while fighting the will to make that wife Evangelin. His mind was craving Evangelin to be the one waiting for him at home, with a dinner on the table and a nice set of bra and panties to be revealed later, but he knew that if he let himself think all these thoughts, the rest of the weekend would be torture. How would he be able to even look in her direction without overwhelming guilt for all those things he made her do in his fantasies? When he was away -- fine. He didn’t have to look her in the eye afterwards. But now, when she was sleeping two walls away, wearing that modest and covering nightg…

Wolfgang imagined that his hand was Eva's and from there it took seconds. He wiped up the results with the other sock and stored it away carefully with it’s companion from yesterday.

6:14, time to rise. Everyone else in the house was still asleep as Wolfgang pulled up his pyjama pants and sneaked out to the bathroom. When the house is this quiet, it’s full of noises. The birds outside. The cars in the street, the milkman, frau Gaissmeier chatting with the newsboy. Neighbours’ dog was barking, and from far across the street another dog barked back. When Wolfgang passed Eva’s room he was treading extra softly and breathing extra quietly, he was scared to wake her up at this hour on a holiday. He heard the dogs have their morning talk, a humming, maybe from a car outside, and then he could swear he heard his name. Wolfgang paused. Did Eva hear he was outside? Was she calling for him? No, everything was quiet. Wolfgang proceeded to tiptoe to the bathroom.

He took a long hot shower, just because he could. Before he moved out, mom would have chewed him out for using half of the hot water tank to himself. Now that he was a rare guest in his parents home, he could afford this luxury. Out of the shower, he took his time admiring himself in the tall narrow mirror. It had steamed up a bit, but what he could see was still good. He wasn’t tall or elegant, but at least he was the best version of himself. He thought he’d shave to really be presentable for breakfast. At the Academy you shaved every morning and Wolfgang was used to it although being young and blonde shaving every day wasn’t really necessary. To be honest, it would probably take him a week to grow a decent stubble. At the Academy he used the standard issue safety razor, but at home he still had his dad’s old electric one, that was quite enough for his needs. He looked for it on his shelf, but he couldn’t find it. His other toiletries were there, but the shaver was missing. Wolfgang looked in the mirror again and ran his hand over his chin. He had shaved yesterday. That would do.

When he got out of the bathroom the house was alive. He heard laughter and movement from the kitchen and the smell of coffee was spreading through the house. Wolfgang got dressed and ran down to the kitchen. He hugged and kissed his mother. He managed to act naturally around Evangelin. He joined his father who was reading the local paper. During breakfast, he asked his mom if she had put away his shaver, but they didn’t get past “I think it’s where you last left it, sweetie”, because Evangelin suddenly dropped a jug, spilling milk all over the place and breaking the sugar bowl. Later that afternoon when Wolfgang checked again, his shaver was indeed just at the right place, exactly where he had been looking for it. The one his father taught him how to shave with, with three rotating heads and a smooth red plastic handle. He flipped the switch on the side and the heads started rotating. Well, that old piece of crap felt like it would shake apart any second and made more noise than a chopper, but it still did it’s job. 

***

Three weeks later Wolfgang was back from his leave, in the mess with his nose stuck in a book. The book was Pomeroy’s classic Twelve Battles That Turned The Flow Of History. Inside Pomeroy’s classic, there was a fresh copy of Fezzan Gentleman’s Guide. In the Guide, there was Wolfgang’s favourite feature -- authentic letters from women. This month, Joanna Stingray, a brave FPA nurse, wrote about one time when she was really missing her equally brave pilot boyfriend. When she was alone in the lab for a short while and the autoclave started centrifuging, that’s when she got this really clever idea for a whole new use for the disinfection programme.

Wolfgang still didn’t have a perfectly clear idea of how -- or why -- women had orgasms. From the letters to the FGG and other fine publications, however, he had figured out that pressing yourself against something vibrating could do it.

When the pieces fell into place Wolfgang Mittermeyer was hit by the most complex wave of emotion he had experienced up until that point in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Evangelin's Gineipaedia page says Wolfgang proposed the day he graduated, his page suggest he proposed at 24. Fuck do I know. I'm just exploring a fictional society's relationship to sex through the lens of specific characters masturbation habits.


End file.
